


Young Blood Roaring

by stardropdream



Series: Primal-Hearted [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Purring Keith (Voltron), Rimming, Scenting, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Top Shiro (Voltron), belly bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: On the morning of Shiro and Keith's day off, Keith wakes up feeling... strange. While the plan for the day is to help clear out his dad's old shack, Keith can't stop thinking about other things he'd rather be doing with Shiro. (Or: Keith goes into heat and doesn't realize it.)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Primal-Hearted [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778347
Comments: 74
Kudos: 448





	Young Blood Roaring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [animelover2day](https://archiveofourown.org/users/animelover2day/gifts).



> Fic request for [Amber](https://twitter.com/sheithlover2day), who asked for a third installment of the prekerb Galra Keith fic series. 
> 
> I was just sitting here vibing, writing this, and then had the thought, "Okay, but what if Keith went into heat and neither of them realized that's what it was?" And then I wrote 12k. So it goes. 
> 
> You can likely read this even without having read the previous two in the series (although they do provide context!). It is, after all, just a lot of porn lol. 
> 
> Regarding the "choose not to use archive warnings": The fic does not explicitly state in any way whether Keith is of age or underage. Because it's a canon divergent fic, it's a little nebulous. But, if you're sensitive to reading work with potentially underaged characters, go ahead and skip this one. Take care of yourself! 
> 
> (And thank you to [Meg](https://twitter.com/kedawen) for the beta read, as always!!!! My hero.)

Keith doesn’t mean to spend the whole night in Shiro’s room. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up in a sunbeam coming through Shiro’s partially closed blinds. He feels warm all over, like he’s covered in too many blankets, and it makes Keith shift uncomfortably as he comes back to his senses.

His hands are on Shiro’s chest, kneading absently. He keeps doing that, lately. 

Shiro’s already awake— Keith can tell by his breathing, by the slightest shift of his eyelids just before they open and Shiro smiles at him. Keith snatches his hands back from his chest quickly. 

“Morning, baby,” Shiro says, voice groggy with sleep. 

Keith feels himself turn pink. He sits up in a rush, so quickly that he nearly goes light-headed. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing at his eyes to clear his vision. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here. I should—” 

Shiro catches him by the shoulder easily, one big palm on his bare skin, and tugs him back down. It’s easy and immediate when Shiro sits up enough to swing himself over Keith and press him down into his mattress. Keith’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. 

“I like waking up next to you,” Shiro says simply. 

Keith wants to whimper. He swallows the sound back. It’s just another _weird sound_ he makes and makes _especially_ around Shiro. He doesn’t care what Shiro says— it _is_ weird and the more he does it, the stranger he feels. He’s not normal. He just wants to feel normal. 

“Someone might notice I was gone,” Keith says. He knows nobody will. His roommate cares about him about as much as anybody else around here does. It’s likely he won’t even notice that Keith never returned to his bunk. He very rarely notices when Keith is even in their room, after all, and seems content to ignore him when they encounter each other in the hallways, or during classes or flight sims. 

Keith is used to being ignored by almost everyone in the Garrison. That, or getting unwanted attention for shit that’s not even his fault. Shiro is the only tolerable thing about this school. 

Maybe his roommate _will_ notice and then there’ll be more rumors about him and Shiro. Keith had fought so hard against those— people can say whatever the fuck they want about him, push him around as much as they want, but the last thing Keith wants is to drag Shiro down with him. Shiro is good. Shiro is perfect. The last thing he needs is to be saddled with someone like Keith, ruining his reputation and future.

His worries and anxieties aside, the selfish part of Keith is grateful to wake up beside Shiro. He won’t have many more nights like this with him, after all. The Kerberos launch looms ever-closer. 

Soon, he won’t have Shiro at all. 

“Are you hungry?” Shiro asks, still pressing down against Keith. “I can make you some breakfast.” 

Keith tries to focus on the words. Mostly, he can only focus on the perfect weight of Shiro on him. He’s so big compared to Keith. When Keith breathes in deep, his chest swelling, he can feel the steady beat of Shiro’s heart. If he breathes deeper, he feels bathed in Shiro’s scent. 

Shiro smiles at him like he can tell what Keith’s thinking and kisses his nose. “I only have bread for toast, but better than nothing, right?” 

“Shiro…” Keith sighs. 

Shiro chuckles gently and kisses his nose again before he draws away. Everything inside Keith mourns the loss of his weight, something primal and needy inside him screaming for his _mate, mate, mate—_

He’s been trying to ignore that particularly thought ever since he first called Shiro _mate_. Keith doesn’t understand where the urge comes from, why he should look at Shiro and think _mate_ , how he could want Shiro enveloping him at any moment of the day, how he aches for him like a phantom limb when he’s gone. Shiro will kiss him and Keith will feel dizzy from it for hours, eager to breathe deep and smell Shiro still lingering on his skin. He wants to always smell like Shiro.

He’s pretty sure that’s not a normal desire. He’s pretty sure it’s not normal to be able to smell Shiro on his skin, to smell how Shiro smells like Keith, too. 

Shiro stands to find them some clothes and Keith can’t stop his eyes from trailing after him. Shiro is covered in marks— bites at his neck and bruises over his chest, sharp nail marks down his back. Shiro cleaned them both off last night before they fell asleep, but Keith can still picture the way Shiro looked, debauched and satisfied, smiling at Keith like he’s some sort of angel. The memories make Keith flush with embarrassment, and then with horror to see the evidence of his own— strangeness. He licks his tongue over his teeth but doesn’t feel the sharp points anymore. 

Shiro turns back towards him and his smile turns smitten-soft. Keith blushes further but can’t help the small sound that hiccups out of him as Shiro goes to him again, bending down easily to cup his chin and kiss him. His thumb swipes across Keith’s bottom lip as he draws away, expression gentle. 

“Are you still sleepy, sweetheart?” he asks. “You’re quiet.” 

Keith whimpers and lurches up, catching Shiro’s mouth with another kiss. Shiro hums, hand shifting to cup Keith’s cheek, cradling him close as he kisses him deeper. 

“Breakfast,” Shiro says, sounding breathless when he draws back again. 

Keith growls, eyes roaming down the perfect expanse of Shiro’s naked skin. “You could just—” He blushes. “Stay here and fuck me again…” 

“Aren’t you hungry?” 

Keith’s hungry for something. His eyes flit over the flat expanse of Shiro’s stomach and lower, eyeing his soft cock. It makes Shiro laugh and Keith feels his cheeks bloom with heat, but he’s not embarrassed enough to actually look away. 

He still feels pleasantly sore from the night before, fucking Shiro and getting fucked by Shiro well into the night. But Keith never exhausts. Shiro often laughs at how much of a teenager he is in that respect, but the fact is that Keith could have kept going and going and going last night. He only stopped because Shiro seemed so tired. It was good, always so good, but Keith can always take more, always _wants_ more from Shiro. Maybe that makes him selfish. 

“I want you,” Keith says and does not pout. 

“Keith,” Shiro says with a throaty chuckle. “You’re insatiable.” He tugs playfully on a piece of Keith’s hair, drawing his eyes back up to him. “I’ll give you what you want, but _I_ need breakfast first.” 

Keith does pout this time, but he’s not about to deny Shiro anything he wants or needs. He has a feeling that Shiro’s insisting because he knows this will get Keith to eat. He’s not nearly as sneaky or subtle as he thinks he is. But then, it also works: Keith will have breakfast if it makes Shiro happy. 

Something warm and coiling twists in his gut, that primal need to please his mate. He can be good. He always wants to be so good for Shiro.

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash since they’re still pretty messy,” Shiro says. 

“I’ll wear your clothes,” Keith says, hoping he sounds confident and not like he’s asking. 

Shiro smiles at him indulgently and fetches him a pair of sweatpants. They’re Shiro’s tightest pair but Keith swims in them, anyway. 

Shiro moves around his room with sleepy-morning confidence, tugging on a pair of boxer-briefs and nothing else before putting on the kettle to boil for tea. He adjusts his medical bracelets without self-consciously glancing back at Keith, like he can trust Keith with all his secrets. Of course Keith notices. He notices everything about Shiro, always watching him so carefully— the way Shiro adjusts and readjusts his bracelets, the way Shiro takes his morning dose of medicine with only the smallest grimace, and the way he turns to bring a cup of tea to Keith. 

Shiro kisses him again, just the lightest peck, and it makes Keith’s heart stutter against his ribs. He makes a soft whimpering sound when Shiro draws away and it’s pathetic and embarrassing, but Shiro smiles at him like he’s precious. 

He sits beside Keith, ducking his head to press an indulgent kiss to Keith’s neck. Keith shivers, trying to sip his tea, trying to focus on anything but the delicate way Shiro pets his fingers through his hair. Keith closes his eyes as he feels the rumble in his chest, the sound that’s so strangely like purring. He hates it sometimes, but Shiro always seems to like it. Somehow, miraculously, Shiro always seems to like _him._

“I cleared my whole schedule today like I promised,” Shiro says against Keith’s shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss there. “So, you’ve got me all to yourself.” 

Keith nods, biting his lip. He can think of any number of things he’d like to do to and with Shiro on a day all to themselves, particularly all the things that don’t require leaving Shiro’s bed, but he did ask Shiro for today with a specific purpose in mind. 

“Yeah,” Keith says softly. 

Then again, there is a bed at the shack. It makes Keith blush to think it even if he _knows_ Shiro would do anything Keith asks of him, even have sex with him in his old family home. 

He didn’t ask for Shiro’s help today just so he’d fuck Keith out in the wilderness, but it’s certainly the thought that occurs to him now. And now that it’s there, he can’t stop thinking about it. He feels a flush of warmth flood through him, his cheeks turning red all over again. 

He finishes his tea with an audible gulp, setting the cup aside. 

He doesn’t get a chance to turn to Shiro or say anything before Shiro shifts towards him. Keith yelps in surprise as Shiro sinks down onto his knees, crawling between Keith’s legs. 

“Shiro—” 

“Hi, baby,” Shiro says and looks overly pleased with himself, his dark hair falling in his eyes as he looks up at Keith with an indulgent smile. “We still have some time before your clothes are washed and dried, so…” His big hands smooth up Keith’s thighs, thumbs tracing along the inner seam of the sweatpants. He pushes Keith’s legs apart and smiles more when the action makes Keith bite back a groan. 

“You said— breakfast—” 

“Oh, I’m planning on eating something,” Shiro says with a stupid grin because he thinks he’s _funny_. 

But there’s nothing funny about the way Shiro tugs Keith’s sweatpants down so he can swallow around his cock. He makes it look easy, with one luxurious swipe of his tongue and a bow of his head. Keith gasps, his cock hardening quickly at Shiro’s attention, his body shuddering out. He grips at Shiro’s hair without even thinking about it, a loud purr kicking up in his chest. 

“Shirooo,” Keith says, and it comes out more as a yowl, something animalistic and unlike how Keith normally speaks. He tries to swallow it back down, but it just makes Shiro look all the more delighted. 

“My beautiful baby,” Shiro whispers when he draws off his cock, mouth and lips ghosting across the crown as he speaks, his eyes a smoldering fire as he gazes up at him. “You look so good—” 

At this point, Shiro knows what such words will do to Keith. He shudders, biting back a small cry as he twists his fingers tight in Shiro’s hair, dragging him in closer. He rocks his hips forward and sinks his cock back into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro hums happily, suckling around him as Keith plumps up against his tongue. 

Shiro’s too good at this. He always knows what to do to make Keith feel crazy with it, to shudder out and fuck into Shiro’s mouth, gripping his hair tight to drag him in closer. He rocks past Shiro’s lips, moaning weakly as Shiro swallows, laving his tongue and pillowing his lips across Keith’s cock. Shiro makes it look easy, sinking down onto him in one mouthful and bobbing his head, giving Keith the friction he seeks. 

It’s laughably easy to make Keith come like that. He doesn’t even try to pull back, knowing that Shiro will swallow him down. He just tugs more insistently on his hair and fucks deeper. Shiro groans happily, eyes closed and lips pulled over Keith’s cock, drinking him down once Keith comes. Shiro’s hands smooth gently over Keith’s thighs, petting him through it, then cupping his hips to keep him pressed deep into his mouth as he drinks him down, his throat flexing as he swallows. 

Keith flops back down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he pants for breath, his fingers dragging through Shiro’s hair absently as he pets through the dark mass of it, massaging his scalp as Shiro mouths over his spent cock. 

Usually, this would be enough to tide him over until he wants to go for a second round. He might insist that he suck Shiro off, too. Instead, it feels like a fire has been lit in his belly, leaving him still desiring and overwhelmingly horny. 

He purrs a little when Shiro draws off his cock, fixes his clothes, and crawls up over him, blocking Keith’s view of the ceiling. He smiles down at Keith, eyes soft and his cock tenting his boxer briefs. 

Keith eyes the bulge of his cock and gives a low, satisfied growl. 

“You’re so hot,” Shiro sighs like _he_ isn’t the hot one between the two of them. 

Keith can’t speak around his purr. Shiro smiles at him sweetly as he comes closer and Keith just grabs at him, dragging him in and nuzzling against his neck. He purrs as he mouths at his skin, dragging his teeth, leaving sucking marks and nibbles. He covers Shiro completely in his scent. His mate. His perfect, beautiful mate—

Keith doesn’t fight against the thoughts that stumble through him. There’s nothing but _Shiro_ there before him. His perfect mate who always makes him feel good, who smells like him, who touches him, who holds him close. Keith growls, biting hard against Shiro’s neck, sharp teeth digging into his skin in a way that makes Shiro gasp and groan. 

“Fuck me,” Keith says, clinging tight to Shiro, his nails digging into his back. He bites again at his neck, squirming beneath him. “Shiro— fuck me—” 

Shiro groans, the sound reverberating through his chest. Keith purrs louder, nuzzling at his shoulder as he wriggles out of his sweatpants, kicking them away so he’s gloriously naked on Shiro’s bed again. 

“You’re in a mood this morning,” Shiro says and sounds delighted. 

Keith keens happily when Shiro’s hand shifts between them, touching over Keith’s hole. He’s still wet and loose from the night before, worked open by Shiro’s gentle, reverential touch. Keith spread his legs, arching his hips up as Shiro’s fingers tease at his rim. 

Keith grabs Shiro’s hand and tugs it up, sucking his fingers into his mouth. He makes him soppy with his tongue, eyes burning as he stares up at Shiro. He knows how much Shiro likes it when he does this. Keith likes to watch the way the change ripples over Shiro’s face. Keith sucks on Shiro’s fingers and watches Shiro’s eyes go dark, his lips parting. 

“Keith,” Shiro says. “Fuck—” 

Keith sucks on his fingers like they’re Shiro’s cock, swirling his tongue and licking over his fingertips before drawing them back out again and guiding them down to his hole. 

“Come on,” Keith says, whining. 

It’s easy for Shiro to push Keith onto his back again, pulling his legs up as he sinks into him. Keith arches with a pleased mewl, his cock already hardening again as he clenches around the perfect stretch of Shiro’s cock inside him. 

“Fuck,” Shiro curses softly, his expression open and indulgent. “You feel so good, baby—” 

He hooks Keith’s knees over his shoulders as he nudges his hips forward, sinking into Keith and fucking him in slow, gentle rolls of his hips. Keith growls low in his throat, panting. 

Keith loves the feeling of being Shiro’s, loves when Shiro arches over him and fucks into him. He loves the way they move together, clinging together. Keith wants to always make Shiro feel so good. He wants to be filled with Shiro forever, always smelling like him, always surrounded by him. 

Keith pants as he clings to Shiro, moving with him as Shiro sets a steady pace, his thrusts deep and nearly-teasing for how good it feels. Keith squirms, pinned down by Shiro’s hold on him. He can feel his purr kicking up in his chest again, loud and relentless. Shiro looks thrilled. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, voice rough and graveled-out. 

“Yeah, Keith,” Shiro says, sweat beading on his forehead as he fucks harder into Keith, rocking the bed enough that the headboard hits against the wall in steady thumps. “Could fuck you forever, baby. You’re so good—” 

Keith arches again, craving that praise and letting it wash over him. He mewls quietly when Shiro’s hand finds his cock, fisting it easily in his palm as he strokes him in time to the thrust of his hips. Keith wants to be full of Shiro, wants to smell like him for the rest of the day, to feel the come inside him leaking out and trailing down his legs. He wants to fuck and be fucked, wants to be covered completely by Shiro— to know who he belongs to. Shiro. Only Shiro. Always Shiro.

He doesn’t usually feel this desperate when Shiro fucks him, but it feels good. Shiro always feels good. Keith loves the way Shiro moves above him, touches him, looks at him like he’s worthwhile. Keith wants this every day leading up to the Kerberos launch, wants to have this as many times as he can manage. 

Shiro ducks his head with a groan as he fucks into Keith, nuzzling against him. Keith arches, keening quietly and squeezing around Shiro. Shiro keeps stroking his cock and when Keith comes for the second time that morning, it’s while he’s arching, shouting Shiro’s name. He claws at Shiro’s back, pulling him in closer.

Shiro keeps fucking into him, stroking him through it as they rock together. When he comes, he fills him with a deep moan. Keith can feel the flood of warmth through him and knows, instinctively, that it’s not nearly enough. It’s never enough. He needs more of Shiro’s come, more of Shiro, all of Shiro. 

Shiro chuckles against Keith’s neck, nuzzling at his shoulder. “Fuck, Keith,” he says once he catches his breath, sounding pleased. “You tire me out. I think I already need a nap.” 

It takes a few tries before Keith can speak, his throat scratchy and the urge to just growl and claim Shiro so strong. “You’re—” He clears his throat. “You’re not _that_ much of an old man, are you? Old Timer.” 

It makes Shiro laugh. He bites Keith’s jaw for good measure and it makes Keith trill. 

“I like to think I can keep up with you,” Shiro says, teasing. There’s a thread of self-deprecation buried beneath the light tone that Keith knows well. The bracelets around his wrists haven’t chimed yet, but their lights flash in warning intervals. Shiro’s probably moved too much, too quickly without warming up properly, but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain.

It doesn’t mean he’s not, though. Shiro’s instinct is always to hide that part of himself. 

Keith loops his arms around Shiro’s neck and drags him down, kissing him hard. He’s not sure how to reassure Shiro, how to put into words some sort of comfort and reassurance. Keith’s no good at words. He’s no good at a lot of things. Somehow, Shiro still wants him but it doesn’t stop Keith from worrying he’ll never be good enough. 

He could tell Shiro just how much he loves him, but Keith’s no good at that, either. 

“Can we go again?” Keith asks. “I’ll ride you this time—” 

Shiro barks a laugh, flushed and pleased as he grins at Keith. “I need a few minutes, Keith. Have mercy on me.” 

Keith pouts but relents when Shiro kisses him, stroking his fingers through his hair. 

“You really are in a mood,” Shiro says when they draw away again, his tone teasing. He smiles at Keith. “I really thought last night would tire you out.” 

Keith doesn’t have the heart to tell Shiro he could have kept going. He wasn’t exaggerating when he told Shiro once that he can come six times in one marathon of masturbation and that’s just an average. Not that Keith’s gone scientific with it. 

“You take care of me,” Keith says because that much is true. Even if Keith could have kept going, what they did together was amazing. Shiro is always amazing. 

Keith realizes he’s kneading into Shiro’s chest again and snatches his hands back. Shiro chuckles, taking Keith’s hands and tangling their fingers together, pinning them up above Keith’s head. It brings them chest to chest, Shiro’s smile warm and indulgent. 

“My insatiable baby,” he says. 

Keith shivers, the way he always does when Shiro calls him _mine._

When Shiro pulls out of him, Keith whimpers. He can’t even help it. Shiro strokes his big hand over Keith’s belly but the touch only helps a little. It feels worse when Shiro draws away from their bed to fiddle with Keith’s clothes in the wash and to finally make some toast. 

Keith doesn’t leave the bed, catching his breath and feeling incomplete. He fingers at himself, biting his lip, feeding Shiro’s come back inside his body when he feels it start to dribble out. 

“Shiro…” he whines. 

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks, nearly dropping the plate of toast when he actually sees what Keith’s doing. “Keith—” 

“Just want… you here,” Keith says with a sigh, unable to put to words what it is he wants. The idea of Shiro’s come inside him is a warm thought and he doesn’t want to lose it. He wants to be pumped full of Shiro, all day, wants to keep him here. 

Shiro sets the plate of toast down on his bedside table. “Keith, fuck—” 

Keith pushes his fingers in deeper, rocking his hips a little. He bites his lip, flushed. His entire body feels like it’s on fire. “Isn’t there… don’t you have— a plug or something? I don’t want you to slip out.” 

Shiro pauses and then his entire face explodes into a burst of red, rising all the way to the tips of his ears. It’s strangely adorable. 

“K- Keith—” 

“I know you have some,” Keith says. He’s not blind. He’s seen flashes of toys in the nights he’s spent here with Shiro. He hasn’t felt bold enough to bring it up until now, but the desire to be plugged up, to be filled, is too strong and it outweighs any embarrassment he might feel. He spread his legs, fucking himself on his fingers. “Shiro…” 

“We’re going out today, remember?” Shiro says weakly, but his eyes are turning dark. Keith bites his lip, rocking his hips in little intervals. 

“So… give me a small one,” Keith says, squirming. 

Shiro blinks at him, still bright red, and then scrambles to a drawer. He opens it and hesitates only for a moment before he plucks up a small plug. It’ll feel like nothing after Shiro’s cock, Keith thinks, but that’s not the point. The point is he doesn’t want to lose anything of Shiro’s. 

Keith’s purring again, the sharp kiss of his teeth against his bottom lip when he bites it nearly distracting as Shiro kneels on the bed again. Keith watches Shiro stroke some lube over the plug, as if Keith even needs that, and then reach for Keith. Shiro brushes a hand over his thigh and cups his hip, his other hand holding the plug. 

“You have to pull your fingers out, baby.”

Instinct fights against Keith, something growling in his gut and telling him to stay plugged. But he can’t disobey Shiro, either. With some effort, he draws his fingers free, only whimpering once he’s empty again. It’s short-lived, at least. Shiro strokes his fingers over Keith’s hole and then carefully feeds the plug into him. 

It's not nearly as perfect as Shiro’s cock, but it’ll do. Keith sighs, arching, and finally relaxes once the plug nudges all the way in, the base pressed to his skin. He finally relaxes, although the heat in his gut simmers still. 

Shiro dives at him then, kissing him sloppily. Keith growls out, pleased, and kisses him back, licking into Shiro’s mouth. 

“You really have no idea how beautiful you look,” Shiro says with a lovelorn sigh. 

Keith knows Shiro’s just being nice. Keith knows he looks weird during sex. He’s never really let himself look carefully at himself in these moments, especially not since those photos Shiro took, but Keith knows he looks anything but beautiful or hot. He looks weird, with strange eyes and sharpened teeth. Shiro might be willing to overlook it, but it doesn’t make Keith pretty. 

Keith kisses Shiro again. 

“Breakfast now? Before the toast gets cold,” Shiro says when they part again. 

Keith allows Shiro to feed him toast, leaning heavily against him and trying not to squirm too much at the feeling of the toy inside him, plugging him up. All he wants is to get fucked again, and he can admit that even for him and his usually-six-times, it’s so quick after they’d just fucked. But Keith’s always been invested in being near Shiro. Shiro is irresistible. Of course Keith wants him any moment he can have him. 

He eats his toast and sips tea when Shiro makes him another cup, watching Shiro bend down to pull Keith’s clothes from the dryer once they’re done. 

Keith watches Shiro dress for the day, too. It takes some effort for him to willingly leave the bed, but when he does, it’s just to wander across the room and drape himself against Shiro’s marked-up back, looping his arms around his waist and nuzzling between his shoulder blades.

Shiro hums, his hands covering Keith’s where they press against his belly. “Hey, you.” 

Keith purrs absently, nuzzling at Shiro’s skin. He licks his spine, just because he can, tasting the perfect taste of his mate. Shiro shivers in his arms. 

It’s easier to focus on this than anything else. Before Shiro started sleeping with him, Keith could only get lost in his own thoughts about how being at the Garrison was some sort of mistake, how all the people bullying him and making fun of him were cowards but ultimately right about his lack of worthiness. 

Shiro says he loves Keith. And Keith still hasn’t been able to say it back. He wants to, he wants to say it desperately, but it’s too terrifying. Shiro will leave, eventually. Keith wants to believe that he’ll come back to him, but Keith is scared of it. Of what it would mean to actually say it. 

Keith still can’t believe that Shiro could ever want him. That day during the sparring match, when things got carried away— Keith still can’t believe it could have actually happened, that it wasn’t one of Keith’s many fever dreams about Shiro fucking him. 

He still can’t believe that Shiro _loves_ him. 

Keith breaks away from Shiro, crossing to where Shiro’s uniform is draped over the back of a chair, waiting to be ironed before Monday. 

“I want to wear this,” Keith says, holding it up. “… Can I?” 

Shiro smiles at him, crossing over to him to brush the hair from his face. “Of course, Keith. You look good in it.” 

Keith tugs it on quickly before Shiro can change his mind. The coat is loose on him, as it always is, hanging heavy over his shoulders and the sleeves folding over his fingertips. It smells utterly of Shiro, though, and that’s enough for Keith. He presses his nose into the collar and inhales, relaxing instantly. 

Shiro’s smile is soft again, his eyes fond as he looks at Keith. “Ready to head out soon?” 

Keith nods with some reluctance. Part of him wants to just demand that they stay in Shiro’s bed all day. But Shiro went out of his way to request today off specifically to help Keith. Keith might be selfish, might want Shiro all to himself, but they’ll have time to be together out at the shack, too.

They finish eating and dressing for the day, and with one last lingering kiss from Shiro, they set out. It’s on Keith’s insistence that they don’t act like a couple outside closed doors. Keith will never forgive himself if he ruins things for Shiro with dumb rumors that are, of course, true: Shiro _is_ fucking him. And he’d get in a lot of trouble if that were confirmed. 

Keith aches, wanting to hold Shiro’s hand, wanting to linger close to him, to kiss him. Hell, he wishes he could just exit Shiro’s quarters without having to wait for Shiro to check that nobody is in the hallway. 

He wants everyone to know that Shiro is _his_. But he can’t. He won’t risk Shiro like that. 

As they start walking, Keith’s cosmically aware of the plug. 

Keith has used toys before. Not a lot. Usually he’s far too impatient to deal with them, fucking into his fist whenever he needed to get off. Owning toys when you have a roommate is a bit of an issue, too. Keith might not give a fuck about his roommate, but he’s not about to fuck himself on a fake cock in front of him, either. 

It's why it’s a particular sort of torture to walk towards the hangars with Shiro knowing there’s a plug in his ass. He can feel it. He’s already half-hard in his trousers, far tighter than the sweatpants had been. He feels flushed and feverish, delighted in a way he can’t describe. It’s the perfect sort of torture. It feels like Shiro is touching him even now when they have to do anything but touch. 

Shiro glances at him a few times, his cheeks an adorable pink color, and Keith knows he’s thinking about it, too. 

Walking to the hangar is nothing like being on the hoverbike, though. 

The vibrations from the hoverbike are amazing, Keith thinks. But also a mistake. He whimpers at every jolt and curve the hoverbike takes, pulsing pleasure shuddering through Keith when the plug shifts inside him. He can’t stop thinking about how full of Shiro’s come he is already, how Shiro will pump him full even more, how his body is warm and open and _ready_ for Shiro. 

He's hard. He knows he is. He rocks his hips forward, seeking the friction of Shiro’s body in front of him. He knows Shiro notices. Keith wishes the angle were just a little different, so he could tuck his cock up against Shiro’s ass and writhe there. 

The hoverbike sails around a corner and the vibrations pulse through Keith’s body. He rocks his hips down, pressing the base of the toy against the seat so it drives up deeper into Keith. He doesn’t try to swallow down his sharp cry of pleasure, knowing the wind will whip it away. 

The ride out to the shack is the longest Keith’s ever experienced. Every passing moment is just another moment when Shiro isn’t inside him. He fucks himself against Shiro’s body, clinging to him and writhing, bumping his ass down against the hoverbike’s seat and wishing he were bouncing on Shiro instead. 

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro says when they park, whipping around to cup Keith’s face and kissing him sloppily. Keith whimpers happily, squirming closer, pawing at his mate. His hand finds the front of Shiro’s jeans and he can feel the perfect bulge of his cock. He purrs into the kiss, sucking hard on Shiro’s tongue. 

“Fuck me,” Keith whispers against his lips. “Fuck me, Shiro. _Fuck me—_ ” 

Shiro curses again, his hands heavy on Keith’s body as he drags him in close, maneuvering him. Keith purrs, going where Shiro directs him. He’s Shiro’s. Shiro can do whatever he wants with him. 

Shiro drops down off the bike’s seat and drags Keith with him, catching him easily. He spins Keith around, shoving him up against the bike’s anti-grav wing, hand on the back of his neck bringing him down, sprawled out against the warm, humming metal. Keith trills happily. It's easy for him to bend over for Shiro, pressing his belly down against the hoverbike and spreading his legs.

He purrs louder when Shiro yanks his pants down over his ass and shoves his shirt up his back. 

The sound of Shiro’s belt buckle coming undone makes Keith trill, a flurry of want slashing through him. He’s pretty sure he has a Pavlovian response to that sound at this point. He squirms.

“Yeah, baby,” Shiro says, voice so soft, so fond. His hand falls onto the small of Keith’s back, stroking. “You’re so good for me. You’re a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Keith whines. He grabs at the plug still tucked up into his ass and pulls. He makes himself go slow with it only because he knows Shiro will approve. “Fuck me, Shiro.” 

They’re the only words he knows. He’s without language aside from telling his mate what he wants, what he needs. There’s only Shiro here. Keith grips the plug tight, ready to give it back to Shiro once he’s ready. For now, he’s all Shiro’s. 

And Shiro doesn’t give Keith the chance to feel the loss of the plug inside him, doesn’t let any of his come from earlier drip out before he sinks his cock into Keith. 

Keith growls out his pleasure, his victory, at having his mate inside him again. He squirms, his entire body shuddering as he fucks back against Shiro’s cock. 

He’s left his mate on edge during the whole ride. Shiro fucks into him with perfect roughness, rocking Keith’s body against the hoverbike’s wing. Keith moans, not even trying to hold back the sound of it now. They’re out in the wilderness with nobody around. He can be as loud as he wants. Let the universe know that he feels good, that Shiro makes him feel good. 

Shiro grips his hips and fucks into him, the pace just short of brutal. Shiro is always gentle with him, even when he’s fucking Keith in such perfectly deep thrusts. Keith writhes, standing up onto the tips of his toes to change the angle, to fuck himself back against Shiro’s cock. Shiro is so big inside him, spreading him wide, and Keith takes him perfectly. Keith was made for Shiro, after all. His mate. His—

“Keith,” Shiro moans as he strokes into him. 

Keith arches, purring louder as they move. “Mm—” 

It takes only a few more strokes of Shiro’s hips before he’s coming inside Keith with a low groan, his body tipping down as he nuzzles the back of Keith’s neck. 

Keith trills happily, squeezing around Shiro’s cock as he empties inside him. He’s already so full of Shiro. He wants to be even fuller. He bites at the collar of the jacket he wears, Shiro’s jacket, and swallows back his moans. 

“Again,” he whimpers. The flush of heat that soars through him is hardly satiated. He needs to be fucked again and again. It’s never enough. 

“Baby,” Shiro says with a groan. “I just came. You have to give me a minute more.” 

“Want you,” Keith says, squirming. “Shiro— mate—” 

Shiro presses a flurry of kisses against the back of Keith’s neck, nuzzling into his hair. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. But let me catch my breath.” 

Shiro presses down against Keith. It’s the perfect weight. Keith whimpers happily when Shiro’s hand finds his cock, stroking him off until he comes again. He squirms against the hoverbike, the metal still warm from the engine, the sun beating down on them both.

Keith whimpers when Shiro pulls out and then nudges the plug back inside him. Shiro pulls his trousers up for him. He picks Keith up from his slumped position against the hoverbike, turning him around and kissing him. Keith will never refuse a kiss from Shiro and he trills quietly as he kisses him back, clinging to him. 

Shiro’s big hands rest on his hips, holding him gently as they kiss. It feels good like that and helps to soothe some of the heat coiling inside him. He’s not usually this insatiable, for all that Shiro teases him. He doesn’t know what’s different about today, why every moment with Shiro should feel so unbearable, how he never has _enough._ But Shiro is so good to him. Shiro takes care of him so well. 

“I should…” Keith bites his lip as they draw back, stroking his fingers over Shiro’s cheek. “I should— fuck you, too?”

“Later, maybe,” Shiro says. He laughs. “I think you might be too impatient to get me ready for you, baby.” He kisses Keith to swallow the small growl the words pull from Keith. No. He’d take care of his mate. He’d make his mate feel good. “Mm,” Shiro hums as he kisses up Keith’s jaw. “Besides, we’re here for a reason, right? I’m helping you clean this place out no matter how determined you are to distract me.” 

That’s right. That was why Keith asked Shiro here today. It’s not much of a date, really, but despite Keith’s fantasies of getting fucked against a wall of his old family home, sex hadn’t been his main motivator for asking Shiro here today.

It’s hard to think of little else but sex with Shiro. He can’t get enough of it. He wants everything he can while he still can. 

He doesn’t know if he’ll get this again, after all. Once Shiro follows his dream and launches into space, time away from Keith might remind him that he can do so much better than him. 

“You say that like there isn’t a plug inside me,” Keith grumbles. 

“How about I fuck you as a reward for a job well done?” Shiro asks with a cheeky grin. His big hand falls to Keith’s ass, palming over him. It’s teasing but it still makes Keith whimper and shudder a little. Even Shiro looks surprised. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so sensitive today.” 

Keith’s only half-listening, purring as he nuzzles at Shiro’s neck, mouthing over his adam’s apple. He doesn’t want to wait until the end of the day. He wants Shiro now, again and again, forever. 

But he knows Shiro needs time to recover. Shiro might want to spend the entire day with Keith, but he also needs to rest. Keith can’t be selfish. He can’t demand too much from Shiro. 

He draws back from Shiro with a small sigh. “Thanks for helping me today…” 

Shiro smiles at him and kisses his forehead. He takes Keith’s hand and it’s perfect. Their fingers lace together as Shiro heads with Keith towards the shack. Despite the weird mood Keith’s in, seeing his old home is sobering. 

He’s gone back a couple times since joining the Garrison, since he has freer forms of travel than he did when he was in the group homes. Keith’s been meaning to clean it up for months now, ever since it was transferred to his name officially, and it was Shiro’s suggestion that he help. Keith hadn’t wanted to ask, but of course Shiro is too good at anticipating what it is that Keith needs. 

All Keith wants right now, currently, is for Shiro to throw him onto the floor and fuck him. 

But he can be reasonable. Shiro did say he’d fuck him once they were finished and that’s a good motivator to work. Keith knows that if he were to bend over and whine for Shiro, he’d come to him, though— he’s noticed the way Shiro responds to him, always comes to him, always wants to make him feel good. Shiro is too kind. Shiro would let Keith be selfish. 

Even if the temptation is there, Keith _does_ want to clean things out. Plus, he gets to watch Shiro move around heavy objects while Keith sweeps the dust and sand from the space. Everything is dusty and old, the windows grimy, and it’s going to take more than a day of cleaning and reorganizing to fix things, but it’s a start. 

By mid-afternoon, when they pause to eat some food Shiro brought in the hoverbike, they’ve managed to clean the front room and rearrange the furniture— the couch, an old table and chairs set, and so on. There’s a pile of old things out on the porch that Keith will need to haul to the dump, too neglected or old to salvage. 

They eat lunch, which is mostly just Keith sitting in Shiro’s lap and mouthing at his neck until Shiro gives him a quick handjob. Keith sucks the come from Shiro’s fingers until he moans Keith’s name. He’s loud, too. It seems he’s not holding back, either. 

They’re not in the Garrison’s walls. They’re out here on their own. They don’t have to hide. Shiro can be as loud as he wants. He can hold Keith’s hand. 

The warmth buzzing through Keith’s skin never extinguishes. If anything, it only grows more as the day passes. If the day started as embers, by late afternoon, Keith is a burning wildfire. 

It’s so much worse once they start cleaning out the bedroom. There’s a bed right there and Shiro isn’t fucking him into the mattress. It’s the greatest travesty that Keith can think of. He tries not to whimper as he rearranges a mirror against the far wall beside the old dresser and bed, staring past his own reflection to watch Shiro moving a bookcase with absolute ease. 

Keith’s eyes stray to Shiro’s wrists, the warning lights flickering on his medical bracelets. Shiro hasn’t complained about any muscle fatigue, but he’s spent the last few hours moving furniture around. Guilt coils in Keith’s chest. Shiro will be sore tomorrow. 

“Should we take a break?” Keith asks. 

Shiro looks back over at him and sees Keith’s eyes flicker to the bed. He laughs. “How many times have you come today, Keith?” 

Keith turns red but Shiro just chuckles, crossing the room towards him. Keith shivers even before Shiro touches him. He sighs as Shiro pulls him into a hug, sinking against him and burying his face into the warmth of Shiro’s chest, inhaling slowly. 

Shiro strokes his hands down Keith’s back in slow movements. 

“We’re done for the day, aren’t we?” Keith asks. He shifts a little, tugging Shiro closer towards the bed. 

It makes Shiro chuckle, dropping an affectionate kiss to the top of Keith’s head. “Wow, Keith,” he says with a sigh. “What you do to me…” 

Keith blushes more, pleased at the words even as he wants to balk at them— Shiro is the one who does things to Keith. Shiro deserves better than Keith. 

He bites at Shiro’s shirt, growling softly. 

“You really are in a mood today,” Shiro says with another chuckle. His hands skirt beneath Keith’s top, touching at his bare skin and tracing his fingers up Keith’s back. It makes Keith arch, the growl tapering into a moan. Shiro looks surprised. “You’re so sensitive—” 

Keith whimpers. “I know I’m weird.” 

“Oh,” Shiro says quietly. “Baby, no. That’s not what I meant.” 

Keith shakes his head. He knows Shiro wasn’t saying that. He knows Shiro would never think that. But it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. 

“I know I’m weird,” Keith says, pawing at Shiro. 

“Baby—” 

“But you still li— love me anyway, right? Shiro…” 

“Of course I do,” Shiro says, his response immediate. His big hands cup Keith’s waist, holding him steady. He looks soft in the dusty light of the shack, his eyes gentle as he looks at Keith. “I love you, Keith. I always will.” 

Keith shakes his head, just a little, disbelief still washing through him. It doesn’t extinguish the warmth flooding through him. He paws at Shiro’s shirt, wishing he could just rip it off him. 

“Come here,” Shiro says, cupping the back of Keith’s head and drawing him into a gentle kiss. 

Keith doesn’t even realize they’re moving until Shiro scoops him up, crawling up onto the bed with Keith in his arms and setting him back down again. He’s reverential, worshipful in the way he kisses Keith. He keeps it soft, his touch unbearably gentle as he cradles Keith’s head and kisses him. 

“I love you,” Shiro says when they draw back, forehead to forehead. “I will never think you’re weird.” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Keith says. “I just… want you. All the time.” 

Shiro pets his fingers from his face. Keith blushes, closing his eyes as Shiro peppers gentle kisses over his face, along his jaw and cheeks and forehead. 

“Don’t worry. It’s a huge ego boost for me, honestly,” Shiro says with a laugh. “I’m just sorry I can’t keep up with you.”

“You’re perfect,” Keith says immediately, the words growling out of him. 

“My beautiful baby,” Shiro says again, fond. His eyes are as gentle as a fading sunset when he looks at Keith. 

Keith shivers. “I am.” He licks his lips. “I’m yours.” 

Shiro’s fingers stroke across Keith’s lips, smiling when Keith nips at his fingertips. “Yeah?” Shiro murmurs. “My Keith.” 

Keith shudders, the gasp punching out of him. He reaches for Shiro then, clinging to him, his nails digging in tight to his shoulders. He’s wearing too many clothes. He should be naked with Keith, claiming him. 

Shiro presses in close, kissing him. He seems focused on that, on simply kissing Keith again and again, sighing sweetly when Keith licks into his mouth and drags him down closer. They press against each other and it’s easy for Keith to start swiveling his hips, squirming beneath Shiro, and seeking that friction, his cock already hardening between them. 

It's involuntary, really. Keith chases that heat, feeling it build inside him. His world narrows down until there is only Shiro and Shiro alone. 

It’s _weird_. He shouldn’t be so obsessed with Shiro, so obsessed with smelling like him, with marking him, with having him inside. He feels nearly crazed with it. 

Shiro strips him down, taking his time, and Keith sighs and arches, squirming out of his clothes to assist him and feeling like he’s burning up. He stares at Shiro, blinking slowly, trying to focus on just him. He watches Shiro tug off his shirt and wriggle out of his pants, getting them only down over his hips before Keith reaches for him, palming over his cock. Shiro ducks his head with a pleased sigh, thrusting into Keith’s hand. 

“Wait,” Keith says, drawing away. He feels too raw naked like this, not covered in the comforting scent of his mate. He looks around, spotting the jacket he’s worn all day, discarded on the edge of the bed. 

He crawls to it and slips it on, the worn fabric slipping over his skin as easily as before. He sighs out, shoulders relaxing, and watches the way Shiro’s eyes darken. There’s something possessive in the way Keith wears Shiro’s jacket, the only piece of clothing on his otherwise naked skin. It’s perfect. It’s his. 

He reaches for Shiro again, crowding in closer, cupping his hand around Shiro’s cock and squeezing. Shiro sighs, resuming his pace from before and rocking into his touch. 

“You feel so good, baby,” Shiro sighs, hardening under Keith’s fingers. 

Keith gives a pleased trill and then slaps his hand over his mouth, trying to swallow the sound back down. But it’s no use. He can hear all the weird sounds he makes, the purrs and the growls. He’s been doing it all day. He’s like a goddamn animal. He bites down hard at the long sleeve of Shiro’s coat. 

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, reaching for Keith’s hand and tugging it away from his face. He presses a kiss right at the center of his palm and Keith whimpers, his fingers curling. Shiro smiles at him, gentle and kind. “You’re so beautiful. Don’t you know that?” 

Keith shakes his head. Shiro frowns at him, just a little, but it makes a small whine rise in Keith’s throat. He’s disappointed his mate. He’s—

Shiro kisses his hand again, then each fingertip. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“I’m weird,” Keith says, insistent. Shiro shakes his head again, kissing his thumb, but Keith is relentless. He’s stubborn. “I know I look weird— when I— when my eyes do that thing—”

Shiro looks at him, tilting his head. His hand drops, smoothing over Keith’s stomach and working its way up, thumbing over his nipples. It makes Keith hiccup a soft trill. 

“Sweetheart,” Shiro says, soothing. “You’ve been making those eyes all day.”

“W- what?” 

Shiro ducks down so that they’re nearly forehead to forehead, Shiro’s eyes on his. His hand lifts, cupping Keith’s cheek to keep him from looking elsewhere or turning his face away. 

“A little bit,” Shiro says. “Since you’ve woken up, at least.” His thumb strokes over Keith’s cheekbone. “You look so fierce…” 

Keith’s eyes widen in alarm. He knows he looks strange, but he knows it’s usually only when he’s about to come or shortly after coming. But all day? He can’t even stomach the idea of Shiro looking at him like this, seeing all the ways he’s a bad mate, a strange mate, a—

Fuck, he isn’t supposed to be thinking about Shiro as his mate at all. That’s not what normal people do. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are,” Shiro says and reaches for Keith, pulling him in closer. Keith goes willingly, because he can deny Shiro nothing, but he makes a low whining sound at the movement. 

Shiro cups his face and kisses him, long and slow. It does make Keith melt, suitably distracting. He loops his arms around Shiro’s neck, sighing and crawling closer, sucking on Shiro’s tongue with a low purr. 

“Turn around, sweetheart,” Shiro says between kisses. Keith makes a low croon of question, content to just keep kissing Shiro. But Shiro just chuckles, kissing up his jaw. “Come on, baby. Be good.” 

Keith growls. He can be good. He’s always good for Shiro. 

“Fuck,” Shiro breathes. “You really are out of it, aren’t you?” 

Keith grumbles as Shiro’s hands find him, touching him, and tugging him back enough to turn him around. It puts Keith squarely in Shiro’s lap, his back pressing up against Shiro’s chest. Keith makes a small noise of confusion, blinking his eyes open. 

Shiro’s angled them on the edge of the bed, Keith in Shiro’s lap, and the both of them facing the old mirror Keith repositioned earlier. It’s close enough to the bed, the little space between the mattress and the wall, that Keith can see himself in stark focus. Keith blinks at it, his eyes finding his face instantly. He can see the gold eyes, the pointed fangs, the flush to his face that’s so dark it’s nearly plum-red. 

Keith instinctively turns his head, hiding his face against Shiro’s shoulder. 

Shiro shushes him when Keith makes a low whining sound, kissing his neck. “Baby,” Shiro says. “Keith… It’s okay. I want you to look. Won’t you look for me?” 

Keith growls, nuzzling absently at Shiro’s shoulder. He takes a steadying breath and looks. Keith can just barely make out his face in the dusty mirror. He growls low in his throat, trying to look at Shiro’s reflection instead. But Shiro’s hand lifts, cupping Keith’s chin and guiding his gaze.

“Look,” Shiro says. “Look at how fucking hot you are, Keith.” 

Keith braces his hands against the mirror, and it rattles against the wall. Keith can see himself like this— the burning gold of his eyes, the sharp glint of fangs. He doesn’t look like himself. He looks like he does in those photos Shiro took of him. But where the photos were grainy and soft-focused, Keith’s own reflection stares back at him in sharp relief. 

He doesn’t look human. Keith doesn’t know what he is, but he knows he’s something feral. Maybe it should frighten him, but right now, his veins sing with the knowledge that his mate is here, that his mate wants him, that even if he’s some sort of strange creature, his mate finds him beautiful all the same.

He doesn’t deserve Shiro. 

Shiro’s hand closes around Keith’s cock, working him gently in slow thrusts. Keith moans, arching his back and leaning heavily against Shiro. 

“Keep looking,” Shiro says. 

Keith blinks his eyes open, trying to watch himself. He bites his lip, rocking his hips up and thrusting his cock into the loose circle of Shiro’s fist. He stares at himself, at the bloom of gold in his eyes. He looks strange in the half-light of the shack, the quiet gloaming through the dusty windows. Keith in the mirror looks wild, barely tamed, like he’s on the edge of frenzied. 

Shiro twists his hand, squeezing around the head of Keith’s cock, and it makes him twitch and gasp Shiro’s name, his sharp teeth scraping against his bottom lip as he bites down. In the reflection, he can see they’re fangs. His cock looks so small in Shiro’s big palm. Keith’s fang digs into his bottom lip. 

He leans heavily against the mirror, being obedient as he stares into his own eyes. He can’t recognize himself. All he wants to do is look at Shiro. But he’ll do what Shiro asks of him. Anything Shiro asks of him. 

He gives a pleased cry when Shiro lets go of his cock in favor of lifting him up and reaching for the plug with his other hand. Keith squirms, spreading his legs and staring hard into his eyes, wishing he could see Shiro better. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Shiro says, soft and soothing. Keith feels a purr of delight kick up in his chest, louder than usual. Shiro nuzzles the back of his neck and it makes Keith sigh out, arching as the plug slips out from inside him. 

He doesn’t have to wait long before he feels the thick head of Shiro’s cock pressing up against him. He bites his lip with a pleased breath, fighting back a smile. 

“Shiro…” 

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, pressing the tip of his cock inside, holding Keith up easily so he doesn’t just sink down onto his cock. It’s at ease and it makes Keith whimper, but it feels so good. “You like it?” 

Keith nods his head, shuddering out. Shiro drags him down, sinking his body down onto his cock little by little. Keith is a shaking mess by the end of it, panting as he leans against the mirror, hands braced. 

Shiro wraps one arm around his waist, holding him up as they rock together. Shiro doesn’t give Keith the chance to set the pace himself, rocking up into him and holding him in place. Keith feels helpless in the best way, gasping as Shiro fucks into him, filling him once again. 

“Shiro,” Keith moans. 

They move like that, Shiro rocking into him so easily, so deep. Keith shudders, his cock twitching with each mounting moment of pleasure, gasping and sucking in pleading pants as he stares into his reflection. Gold eyes stare back at him, a mouth full of sharp teeth. There are claws on his fingers, pointed tips curling against the mirror. 

His cock throbs against his belly, dripping precome, and he wants to spread himself more and take Shiro’s cock deeper. He wants and he wants. He’s never satisfied, can never get enough— there’s only Shiro and everything that he can give to Shiro. 

Keith’s eyes trace down over himself, whimpering happily when Shiro changes the angle. Keith studies himself through the haze of his lust, focusing on himself. When his eyes dart down to his stomach, where his cock presses hard and leaking at the tip, he notices the movement with each of Shiro’s thrusts.

He gasps, one hand falling down to press against his belly, where he can feel Shiro moving. Shiro thrusts up and Keith’s purr hitches, his eyes staring at the way his hand presses to his stomach, the swell of his belly when he _feels_ Shiro thrust inside him. 

He cries out, arching. He looks powerful like that, and yet helpless— held easily by Shiro’s sure hands, his body small in his hold, Shiro’s jacket slipping off his shoulder. 

His own orgasm takes him by surprise, washing over him. He grabs blindly for his cock, stroking himself off as he spills across his fingers and his stomach. Shiro keeps fucking into him, keeps thrusting, and Keith stares at that movement, panting. 

He’s full. He’s so full because of Shiro. Only because of Shiro. 

His purr rattles in his chest and he can’t tear his eyes away from where his stomach bulges out, from where he can see Shiro’s cock. 

As soon as he catches his breath, he feels blindly for Shiro’s hand, guiding it up to press against this belly. It takes a few thrusts for Shiro to realize but when he does, he loses his pace, a gasp punching out of him. 

“Fuck!” he gasps, then buries his face against Keith’s shoulder. He moans as he rocks into Keith, his hand pressing down hard against Keith’s belly. Shiro’s hand is so big, his cock is so big, and Keith is open and ready and willing and all Shiro’s. “Keith, _Keith—_ ” 

Shiro’s the one to whimper now as he rocks into Keith, chasing his own orgasm. Keith can feel the way the change rolls over him, how desperately he holds onto Keith. Keith purrs happily, slumped back against Shiro and letting him take and take and take. Whatever he wants, it’s his. Keith is Shiro’s entirely. 

He loves Shiro so much, it’s hard to breathe. 

He stares at himself in the mirror. He looks fucked out, satisfied in a way that only Shiro can make him. His eyes are still gold, even now that he’s come down from his orgasm. It seems Shiro was telling the truth when he said Keith has been like this all day, because of course Shiro wouldn’t lie. Keith can’t make sense of it, but it must have something to do with the itching heat that scrubs through him— how he’s wanted Shiro with a desperation he can’t define, more than he normally wants him. And god, he always wants him.

“Shiro,” Keith says, barely managing the single word. He knows he hasn’t said much for a while, nothing beyond Shiro’s name, but even that’s a struggle now. He feels too deep in the pleasure inside him, too deep in needing to make Shiro feel good.

Keith leans back heavily against Shiro, changing the angle. Like this, he can see Shiro better in the mirror. Keith tilts his hips back, leans heavily against Shiro’s chest, and he can see the spot where Shiro’s cock disappears inside him, the way he spears him open. Keith lifts his legs, feeling the flex of Shiro’s hand on his thigh, and Keith shudders. 

He doesn’t know where to look. He watches Shiro’s cock disappear inside his body, how small he looks surrounded by Shiro, how big Shiro’s cock looks pressing into him. His eyes flit to his stomach, to the perfect way Shiro’s hand covers him there, feeling himself. 

He wants Shiro to fuck him until come leaks out of him, until he’s so full that he’s overflowing. He wonders if Shiro would be able to manage that. He knows he’s already testing the limits with how much he’s asked of him today, but Keith _wants._

Shiro nuzzles at the back of his neck, covering him in his scent. Keith trills, fucking himself down against Shiro’s thick cock. 

He rides Shiro until he comes, feels the swell of his cock inside him, the press against his belly, the flood of warmth. Keith can barely hear anything beyond his own purr and Shiro’s moan, and it’s perfect. So perfect. 

Shiro presses kisses against the back of Keith’s neck and along his shoulder. It makes Keith tremble, held up only by Shiro’s sure hands on him. He purrs low in his throat, his chest reverberating with the sound, and he slumps completely against Shiro. He’s beyond words. 

“Fuck,” Shiro breathes once he catches his breath, his hand slipping down over Keith’s belly. “You’re hard again, baby.” 

Keith bites his lip, shuddering when Shiro’s hand closes around his cock again. He hadn’t even noticed. 

He waits for the judgement, bracing himself. _How the fuck are you hard again?_ and _What the hell is wrong with you?_ Of course it never comes. Shiro just smiles as he mouths over Keith’s neck, dragging his teeth in little, teasing nips. Keith inhales deep and the room smells like sex and Shiro. 

“Mate,” Keith mumbles. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m here,” Shiro says agreeably, kissing the shell of his ear. 

Keith whimpers. “More.” 

“I want to give you more,” Shiro says. “But I’m exhausted, sweetheart.” 

Keith wriggles. He squeezes his body around Shiro’s cock, but despite his best efforts, his mate stays soft. It’s understandable. He’s demanded so much from his mate today. Keith whimpers anyway. 

He lets Shiro manhandle him, maneuvering them around so Keith can lie on the bed again, staring up at the ceiling with Shiro’s jacket pooling around him. Shiro strokes him absently, smiling down at him fondly. 

“Want me to suck you off?” Shiro asks. 

Keith manages a jerky nod. It’s not the same as being filled, but it’ll be enough. He sighs as Shiro strokes his hands over him, working down over his belly and hips, his thighs. He spreads Keith’s legs enough to slip the discarded plug back inside him, plugging him up obediently. Keith didn’t even have to ask, didn’t have to whine for it. 

His mate is too good to him. Keith sighs and bites his lip around a whimper as Shiro presses sloppy kisses over his stomach, cleaning him up and working his way down to his cock, so small in his big hand. Shiro licks the come from his stomach, mouthing absently with a low hum of pleasure, and takes Keith down to the root with one simple swallow. 

He works his mouth and tongue over Keith simply, his touch always welcomed. It makes Keith relax more than anything else, even as the fire and pleasure builds. He shudders through it, rocking up into Shiro’s mouth. 

Shiro reaches out, twisting the base of the plug and it makes Keith gasp, shuddering. Shiro hums happily, pleased with himself, mouthing down Keith’s cock. He kisses down the length of him and down lower, spreading Keith’s legs wider with a gentle nudge of his shoulder as he settles, licking over Keith’s hole around the base of the plug. The presence of Shiro’s breath, warm and damp against his skin, his tongue lapping over the puffy, pink rim of Keith’s hole, kissing him even as he pushes the plug in deeper, makes Keith cry out. 

Shiro plays with him like that, cleaning him and teasing at him, pushing the plug in and out. Never fully leaving Keith, but just enough to tease. He kisses and licks until Keith’s cleaned off and buzzing with energy. He whimpers, his cock hard and straining against his stomach. 

“Shiro…” 

“Mm,” Shiro says with a low hum, nuzzling and kissing Keith’s inner thigh. His hand finds Keith’s cock again, stroking him off leisurely as he licks at his hole, tugging him open with a little twist of the plug. 

It’s too much. It’s perfect. Keith comes with a low cry, arching nearly off the bed entirely and coming across his newly cleaned stomach. Shiro squeezes him at the base and strokes him through it, his tongue wriggling into his hole alongside the plug, moaning when Keith’s body clenches. 

“Perfect, baby,” Shiro whispers as he lays worship to his body, kissing and licking and sucking over every exposed inch. 

Keith can barely speak, barely breathe. He reaches for Shiro blindly, the long sleeves of his coat nearly getting the way. He grips Shiro tight by his ears and yanks him up. Shiro comes to him laughing, his eyes bright and delighted, his smile overly fond. 

Keith loves him so much it’s nearly overwhelming. 

The light is fully faded from the day, the late afternoon sinking away into evening. They haven’t bothered to turn on any lights and the room slowly drowns in darkness, but Keith can see Shiro in perfect clarity. 

He loves him. He loves him with everything he is. He wants to be with him forever. _Mate._

Instead of saying this aloud, Keith lurches up and sinks his teeth hard into Shiro’s neck. Shiro gasps, his breath stuttering out in a low moan. He doesn’t shove Keith away, doesn’t cry out. He just tips his head back, making space for Keith, and lets him mark him. 

Keith grabs at his shoulders, shoving Shiro down and crawling up after him, straddling him, and sucks and licks at the mark he’s left. Shiro pants beneath him. 

When Keith glances to his side, looking at himself in the mirror, he tries to see what it is Shiro sees— someone primal and powerful, someone beautiful. Shiro lays sprawled out beneath him, hands on Keith’s hips. 

“You’re mine,” Keith croaks. 

“Yeah, Keith,” Shiro says without hesitation. He blinks up at Keith in the dark. He smiles then, fingers tangling in Keith’s dark hair. “Fuck. I love you so much.” 

Keith wants so desperately to say it back. He ducks down to kiss him instead, plastering his body against his. Shiro sighs, wrapping a free arm around Keith and keeping him pressed against him. Shiro’s jacket slips off Keith’s shoulders, pooling around them. 

“You were so damn horny today, baby,” Shiro says with a laugh. He sounds exhausted but delighted to be so. 

Keith doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he could still keep going. He feels the heat simmering in his gut. But it’s quiet for now and he can at least focus on human words, on Shiro there with him, doing everything he can to make Keith feel good. 

Keith pets his fingers over Shiro’s face, brushing his hair back from his face. “You’re hot. Why wouldn’t I want you?” 

Shiro laughs, grinning at him. Keith’s pretty sure normal people wouldn’t be able to see how Shiro’s blush deepens in this lighting. But Keith sees it in perfect clarity. 

“Give me a little bit to catch my breath and then we can drive back,” Shiro says.

“I can drive us back,” Keith says. He likes the idea of Shiro draping over his back, his cock nudging up against his ass as they drive. 

“Mm,” Shiro says. He pets his fingers through Keith’s hair, the movement sleepy and relaxed. “Want to spend the night again? Think you can get away with it?” 

Keith nods, not even having to think about it. Like anybody else will notice or care. He just wants to spend every night in Shiro’s bedroom. He’s spent the last three nights there already. What’s one more? 

Tomorrow, he thinks Shiro might be sore. Keith will get to take care of him. Maybe Shiro will have sex with him later, once he’s feeling better, too. 

“I want to be with you every night,” Keith says. 

Shiro smiles at him, eyes sparkling like a night sky. “Me too, Keith.” 

Keith wants to believe him. He so desperately wants to believe him. He presses a kiss to the mark he’s left on his neck, sighing out in a low purr, and nuzzles gently. He holds Shiro close, letting him rest, and relaxes against him. 

Shiro is always gentle with him, unbearably gentle. 

“We…” Keith bites his lip. 

“Mm?” 

“We should do it in front of a mirror again some time,” Keith mumbles. 

Shiro lights up. “Yeah? Yeah, I bet we could manage that.” 

Keith nods his head and leaves it at that, cuddling up to Shiro. Shiro wraps his arms around him, enveloping him the same way his jacket does. Keith is utterly bathed in Shiro’s scent, just the way he likes it. 

He sighs out, feeling protected and in love, and lets himself believe that Shiro means it when he says he’ll always feel this way— that, somehow, Shiro might love the wildness in Keith.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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